Page 128 of Knot Their Soldier: Part Three

I watch her hands flex at her sides and add, "but if you want me to apologize, you'll have to make me."

That does it.

Her nostrils flare. I know that look. I’ve seen it through months of training, when she’s tired and annoyed and seconds from proving an Omega will fight if backed into a corner.

She steps toward me, and I let her come. Her anger is still aimed at me, but that’s fine because I can take it. I want to take it. I want all of it out of her body: the frustration from that room, the fear about the pregnancy test result, and the overwhelming terror of the coming war she is supposed to stop with her Omega Command.

"You don’t get to decide when I need a break," she says, raising an accusing finger at me.

"You’re right," I nod, cracking my knuckles and lowering my stance.

Her brows pull together.

I tip my chin toward the door. "So go back."

She doesn’t even glance at the door.

I lower my voice. "Or stay and make me pay for carrying you out."

Her hands curl into fists and lift into position.

I smile.

She lunges at me.

Her first strike comes fast and furious, driven more by her temper than technique. I catch her wrist and turn her past my left side, but she goes with the motion instead of resisting it, planting her boot and twisting back in close so her free elbow drives into my ribs.

I block most of it, but it still lands, and the brief flare of pain makes my mouth curve. As a fully mated Omega with a Pack, she's stronger than she's ever been. Who would've thought an Omega could throw a punch that makes an Alpha hurt?

"There we go," I murmur.

"Don’t praise me," she splutters. Praise is a surefire way to turn our Omega on, and she wants to be angry with me right now, not aroused.

I don't see why we can't do both.

"Then stop being such a good girl," I growl the phrase that usually makes her knees go weak for us.

"Asshole." Her eyes flash with warning, but a pretty blush dusts her cheeks.

She comes in lower this time, leading with her shoulder as if she means to drive me backward. I brace for the hit, but she stops short, stamps her heel down hard on the top of my bare foot, and drives her shoulder into the base of my ribs while my weight is trapped beneath her boot.

It's a dirty move, and beautifully done.

Pain punches up my leg and steals half a breath from my lungs. She sees it and smirks. My Omega misses very little once she gets out of her own head.

"Blaze taught you that, did he?" I ask.

She bares her teeth. "He said to use it on dickheads."

I chuckle at her fire as I reach for her, but she ducks under my arm and drives her knee up with vicious accuracy, aiming right between my legs.

I twist my hips back before she makes contact, saving the parts of me she claims to like. My balls give a hearty ache at the threat.

"Pretty girl!" I feel betrayed that she'd aim for my delicates.

"What?" she goads, breathless, flushed, and grinning wickedly.

"I thought you liked that part of me."